Simple Gifts
by The Plaid Slytherin
Summary: A near-miss while hunting leads Robert to something unexpected. Set during their years in the Eyrie. Robert/Ned.


Written for the 2016 round of Chocolate Box on AO3.

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Robert trudged through the new-fallen snow, looking for something to kill. He'd been out for hours with no success and he was beginning to get frustrated.

He had come out here alone to think, but it wasn't working. He had hoped the mountain air would clear his mind from thoughts of Ned, but it seemed that he was always there, wherever Robert went, lurking at the back of his mind.

Something dashed out of the shadow of a tree and he nocked an arrow in his bow and fired. It went wide, missing the rabbit by several feet before landing harmlessly in a snowbank. The rabbit paused, twitching its nose at Robert almost mockingly, before scurrying away. This was getting ridiculous. He stalked over to retrieve his arrow. At least Ned hadn't seen that.

He planted his foot on the snowbank and pulled the arrow free. Maybe it was time he headed back. He had worked up a sweat hiking through the snow, but now the cold was beginning to bite through his furs.

He turned, tucking the arrow in his quiver, when the snowbank gave way. For one gut-churning moment, his foot was over empty air, then he was rolling arse over elbow down the hill. The last thing he thought before his head struck the rock was that he was glad Ned hadn't been there to see _that_ , too.

By the time Robert hauled himself, first to his feet, and then to the top of the ridge, it was nearly dusk.

"Robert! Robert!" He could just make out the form of Denys Arryn crashing his way through the trees toward him and he stopped. Each step sent pain shooting from his shoulder down his arm. He supposed he'd gone and broken something, if the fall hadn't been embarrassing enough.

"Lucky I spotted your horse, then," Denys said, after Robert reluctantly related his misadventure. "The whole castle's turned out looking for you. What in the name of the Seven possessed you to go off on your own?"

Robert could not answer him. He had barely begun acknowledging it to himself, that sometimes, he could not be around Ned because of how badly he wanted to kiss him. Luckily, Denys didn't demand further explanation.

"I don't need anything," he muttered, when the maester descended on him as soon as he was back within the walls of the Eyrie.

"But your shoulder! It must be set."

Robert ignored him, even though the reminder made his immovable arm throb more. He just wanted a good meal, some wine to wash it down with, and bed before…

"Robert?"

Lord Arryn was crossing the courtyard, heavy cloak flapping in the wind and Robert felt a sudden wave of guilt that he'd worried his foster father. He stopped. And then, from behind Lord Arryn, came Ned.

His stomach plunged further, to about the level of his knees. All the fears that had sent him into the woods alone that afternoon came rushing back. The fact that he wanted to kiss Ned made him want to hit someone. Not Ned, but someone.

He could just picture how he'd look if he did it, too. Ned would blink solemnly, and let him down with infuriating calm. It wasn't that he minded if Ned didn't want to kiss him, too—he assumed he didn't. It was the way Robert _knew_ he'd react. He would have preferred it if he thought Ned might hit him.

"Are you all right?" Ned's gray eyes were filled with concern. "Let him see your arm." His hand on his shoulder made Robert's heart race. How the hell did Ned not notice? "You need a maester," Ned concluded sensibly, at long last stepping away.

Now that Ned had intervened, Robert obediently climbed the stairs to his room and let the maester pop his shoulder back into place. The pain took his mind off his predicament, until the maester was gone and he was left alone with Ned.

"Do you need anything?" Ned had not taken off his furs and his hair was still windblown. His cheeks were flushed red. Robert swallowed hard.

"No."

Ned began to remove his cloak. Robert frowned. He wanted Ned _gone_. Why was he staying?

"You didn't have to go out by yourself," Ned said, oblivious to Robert's inner turmoil. He draped his cloak over the back of a chair and drew it closer to Robert's bed.

Robert shrugged, which sent pain shooting through his shoulder. He suppressed a curse. "I didn't want to bother you," he said at last, loathing the crack in his voice.

Ned smiled. "When was that ever a consideration for you?"

Robert slumped back on his pillow. He couldn't even _look_ at Ned. This was getting ridiculous.

"Is anything wrong?" Ned was leaning in.

Everything was wrong, but he couldn't bloody well say it. He sighed. "No."

"You haven't been yourself lately." He hated the way Ned's tone implied that Robert ought to explain why this was. He focused on the foot of his bed so he wouldn't be tempted to look at Ned.

"I'm fine. Never been better. Except for my ruddy shoulder." He clapped a hand to it and winced

Ned made a sort of unsatisfied sound, but said nothing. Outside, the wind howled between the castle's high towers.

"Glad I'm not still out in that," he said, forcing himself to look up. He might as well get on with it. He would have to start acting normally soon enough; he might as well start now.

Ned was leaning in too close. Robert froze, panicked. He didn't want to pull back and make it obvious, but he had to move or they'd be touching soon. He couldn't make himself obey, though. Ned was staring at him, a strange expression on his face. What in seven hells was wrong with him?

Just then, a log settled in the fire, startling him. Before he knew it, Ned's lips were on his. After a moment of shock, Robert managed to keep himself from pushing Ned away. That would have sent the wrong message for sure. Instead, he pressed back gently against Ned's lips. He wasn't sure if it was a good kiss, but he was damned sure he wanted Ned to know he'd liked it.

It seemed to last forever, but still, they broke apart too soon. For once in his life, Ned looked flustered.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. He stood. "Robert, I—"

"No." Robert reached for Ned with his good hand, grabbing his wrist with what he hoped wasn't too much force. "Stay."

Ned hesitated before sitting down, this time, on the edge of Robert's bed. Robert drew in a shaky breath. How did he not mess this up? Ned was too good to mess up…

"Robert?"

He looked up. Ned was still sitting there patiently; he gave no indication of wanting to flee.

"Is what was bothering you?" He brushed his finger over the back of Robert's hand, slow strokes, back and forth.

Robert frowned. If he couldn't admit it to Ned, who was he supposed to admit it to? "Yeah."

Ned made an understanding nod. They were quiet for a moment. Robert didn't want this to stop. Ned touching his hand was the best thing that had ever happened to him, would ever happen to him. It was better than wine, better than standing alone in the middle of a melee field.

"Well," Ned said at last. "Just don't do that anymore, all right? I don't want you to get into trouble." He caught Robert's eye and smiled.

"I won't." Robert smiled back. "What would I do without you, Ned?"

"You'd fall down a hill."

Robert laughed. "I like that. That's funny."

"That's the milk of the poppy."

Robert felt a sleepy smile spread over his face. "Maybe." He sank bonelessly back against the pillows.

Ned stood. "Go to sleep," he said. After an awkward pause, he leaned down and kissed Robert on the forehead. He had been wrong. _That_ was the best thing that had ever happened to him. "Your shoulder will feel better in the morning."

"All right." Robert felt his eyes droop. He barely registered Ned shutting the door behind him. Perhaps going out alone hadn't been such a bad idea after all.


End file.
